Character: Yennefer of Vengerberg

I've heard stories about people like you. You are a mutant. Created by magic. You roam the continent. Hunt monsters for a reward. I thought you had fangs, horns or something.

“That's why we're here. Because sometimes it's not a lousy ale, sometimes it's a pigsty spot.

Smart truth.

- That smell... lilacs...
... and gooseberry.

- Nilfgaard is seriously threatened on the continent?
They've raised an army, expanded its territory, disband their faith as some kind of epidemic.

- I will deliver you from suffering slight instant of pain. The sorceress regains her bosom. And you, Geralt, though, and don't want to lose her, you lose.
- Have already lost.

- The man follows his desires.
- How do I recognize them? You give up your desires for mine.

And many women buy into rudeness? Or, maybe they are willing to buy your coins?